


prophylaxis

by Euludey



Series: The Light That Filters Through The Trees [1]
Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Dem angsty feels, Developing Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Literary References & Allusions, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philemon - Freeform, Rating May Change, References to Depression, Self-Indulgent, Spoilers, Unreliable Narrator, depressing shit, everyone loves akira, tbh this shit is so pretentious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-05 11:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euludey/pseuds/Euludey
Summary: If a game is rigged in favor of both, would the scales be balanced then?-In the game of chess, prophylaxis (Greek προφυλαξις, "prophylaxis," guarding or preventing beforehand) or a prophylactic move is a move that stops the opponent from taking action in a certain area for fear of some type of reprisal. Prophylactic moves are aimed at not just improving one's position, but preventing the opponent from improving their own.-Hooper, David; Whyld, Kenneth (1992), The Oxford Companion to Chess (2nd ed.), Oxford University Press(under editing)





	1. Predawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note of all the tags before reading.

_“Man lives consciously for himself, but is an unconscious instrument in the attainment of the historic, universal, aims of humanity.”_ _  
_ _-Leo Tolstoy_

 

* * *

 

Akira doesn’t quite know what he’s looking at.

Beyond the warped valley of metal is an angel who has lost his wings. Pure ivory flesh glistening in the distorted light of the sky, bare as the day he was born, the figure plummets to the depths of Purgatory like a son cast out by his father.

Akira's eyes met those of pale cobalt for a split second before the midnight blue of their hair swept them from view and the darkness of humanity's cognitive world swallowed him whole.

And suddenly his mind goes blank.

A white noise has filled his head. The ground vanishes beneath him.

He couldn’t think anything at all, move a single muscle at all, couldn’t see anything but those _eyes_.

Those eyes stare into his soul and it feels like their image has been seared into his very being, eternal and _haunting_.

He doesn’t know why, but suddenly he feels like the world has shifted on its axis.

In the back of his mind, a pounding headache forms as Arsene claws his way through his consciousness hard enough to jolt him out of his daze.

He’s still standing at the entrance of Mementos. Nothing has happened. The floor is beneath him. There’s nothing in the sky.

He breaks out of his stupor with a deep breath and sweat forming on his skin and turns his head quickly in an effort to recompose himself, but he’s not fast enough.

His hands are shaking and-

"Akira? Is something wrong?" Makoto asks, her voice tinged with a touch of concern. He opens his mouth, but out of the corner of his eye, Akira can see Futaba glance at him from where she sat up in Prometheus and Ryuji divert his attention from a ranting Ann.

He swallows thickly.

"No, it's nothing,” he says dismissively. He straightens himself up a bit and turns to her. “What's the status?"

He tries for his usual cocky grin, but Makoto doesn't seem quite convinced, and eyes him a little. She holds him under her gaze and Akira tries his best not to fidget, but, after a full minute under her stare, she lets the subject drop.

She begins briefing him about the members and the progress they've each made, but there’s a pinched look to her face, and the look in her eye tells him that she’ll definitely bring this back up at a later time.

 

- _ζ_ -

 

It’s obvious that despite his best efforts to focus, the scene was burned behind his eyelids, and it _shows_.

“Gah!”

Akira’s sent flying backwards as a Mind Slice strikes him head on.

"Akira!" Ann shouts as she nimbly dodges their opponent's attacks. She means to run over to him, but great as her speed is, she’s cut off by another attack.

She gnashes her teeth in irritation as she stumbles back. On Akira’s other side, however, Mona makes use of the bought time to throw a Diarama at him.

As the spell’s healing effects soothe the sting of his wounds, Akira shook his head in yet another attempt to just _focus_. He pulls himself up with a grunt and launches himself back beside his friends, switching out his persona for another in order to remedy his last persona's weakness to Slash.

The battle draws to a close quickly after that as the Rakshasa is beaten down. Akira’s focus seems to have made a comeback, but the reasons were all wrong.

He just wants to get that goddamned image out of his mind.

It’s as if with every blow he lands, he’s battering away at those unwanted thoughts and memories.

Akira’s breath has run out at the end of the battle but even with his heart beating hard, adrenaline keeps the exhaustion at bay.

He may have gone harder than usual on the shadow.

He _may_ have.

Once again, Akira hopes he isn’t as transparent as he feels he is, but that’s just his luck, his friends are sending him worried looks despite not being completely recovered themselves. If they hadn’t bought his story before, they definitely didn’t now, if their expressions were anything to go by.

Their eyes only add to his growing unease and he clams up.

In an almost pretentiously graceful swoop, Akira quickly pockets the High Counter card the shadow had dropped and _flees_.

Yeah ok no, he’s not doing this. Nope.

Call it cowardice, but Akira’s not going to talk or even _think_ about it; the sight of somebody falling, as strange as it might be, really should not be bothering him like this. Something that _unnecessary_ isn’t worth being brought up and hindering their progress. It’s his to deal with quickly and smoothly, not another burden that he can just up and plop onto the laps of his friends, who’ve been stressed enough with Okumura’s death.

But that’s apparently not his choice to make, and he’s caught on the shoulder before he could run down the hall. The hand turns him around and Akira’s put face to face with Ryuji.

"Hey 'Kira? Are you okay man?" Ryuji asks, concern apparent in his voice. Akira gapes at him for a second like a fish out of water and barely manages to keep the stutter out of his voice.

“... Yeah,” he chokes out. His breath is caught in the throat suddenly, and very carefully, he lets it out as he slips out of Ryuji’s grip.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Akira repeats, “But I don’t really want to talk right now.”

 _Not about that, no_ , he adds in his head.

Ryuji’s face gets that same pinched quality Makoto had, which was a strange look that Akira would find amusing if he was in any other situation, but nevertheless still looks a lot like he wants to just grab Akira by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.

Akira doesn’t give him the chance to do so however. By the time his friend’s mouth has opened, he’s already turned away.

The others pretend like they haven’t been watching their exchange the entire time, but if he’s to be frank, all of them all quite terrible at acting, especially when in front of someone who knows them so well. They’ve been together for almost a year now; they knew each others’ tells like the back of their hands.

And that probably includes him too, because he can act all he wants but it doesn’t change the fact that they’ve seen the parts of him that he’s shown only to a select few before, a select few that had left him _hurting_.

(How easily they had turned their back on you after the Incident.)

If he’s to be honest, he’s scared.

Very much so.

Morgana’s transformed back into the Bus, and the others appear to have patched themselves up. It’s open and almost _normal_ , but the tension building by the second was thick enough that Akira could cut it with a knife. This stage he’s walking on doesn't feel any less comfortable despite his friends’ attempts.

Hurriedly, Akira climbs into the driver's seat, red gloved hands grasping the steering wheel as his friends clamber into the Bus after him. That feeling of being watched intently returns, the hair on the back of his head prickling as they head down towards Adyeshach. He can practically feel their questioning looks boring into his skull as they share glances with each other in silent conversation.  
  
“Akira,” he hears someone call.

The leather of his gloves grits against the wheel.

There’s shifting in the back as someone suffles forward. He can feel the heat of their hand radiating through his layers of clothing, but their palm never makes contact. They repeat, “Akira,” but the attempted assertiveness in their voice isn’t nearly as convincing as the hovering hand.

He’s somewhat intent to continue ignoring the issue at hand, but if there’s anything that he is truly _soft_ for, it would probably be this group of people. When did he pick up this ragtag group of endearingly annoying friends? Akira remembers vaguely promising himself not to get attached to anyone here, but look how that turned out. He’s surprisingly happy among this bunch.

The fear in his gut coils tighter.

His black eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, focus fixated on the pale hand encroaching on his shoulder. A shining beacon amongst the harrowing darkness.The fact that it’s lingering even now eases this fear slightly, its presence almost _assuring_.

(Would you have ever done this for me, Watanabe-kun?)

A blink and that murky darkness dissipates. Futaba’s the one leaning forward with her hand outstretched but the others are all tense in a way that suggests that all Futaba is in that moment is just the first responder.

Akira takes a moment to contemplate this.

"I’m not okay," he finally admits, the words flowing out in an unexpected spur of action.“But it’s nothing serious. I’m just...” He fumbles for the word, but they seem to understand so he doesn’t elaborate on it. There’s an understanding of trust between them as they wait for him to continue, their worries eased if only marginally of his willingness to speak.

“Look, I-” he hesitated, “...Do you trust me?”

There’s a round of nods and words of affirmation around the passenger seats and eyes that look at him and give too much.

“It really is too soon for me to explain,” he hears himself say, “But I promise that I’ll tell you.”

His tongue feels like sandpaper.

 

- _ζ_ -

 

When they finally return to reality, it came to no surprise that night had descended. Time within the Metaverse was wonky, but autumn was finally settling in and it’s not like time would just stop for whenever they left for humanity’s unconscious. And to his pleasure, the hours they had spent exploring the new Path paid off, as they had covered most of the Areas and all of the requests had been completed.

He hates to admit it, but confessing that he was bothered did resolve the issue to some extent, even if the fix was temporary. Or perhaps the _incident_ had simply faded from mind as the rush of battle and adrenaline overtook it.

All in all a productive evening.

Exhausted but content, Akira drags his feet into Café Leblanc.

"You're home late again," Sojiro says from his place behind the counter. His hands move with a steady calmness as they pour water into the familiar nel pot: a contrast to the gruff look he secures at his ward.

“...it’s only 8.”

“Yes, but the sun goes down earlier now that it’s no longer summer,” the man replies sternly, “And it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been spending more and more time on your _work_.”

Akira’s strange feeling seems to come back full force with awfully convenient timing, and suddenly he _really_ does _not_ want to be in this situation. His exhaustion suddenly weighs on him like an anchor, the satisfied hum that lingers under his skin after battle burning away much quicker than it usually would.

What was _wrong_ with him?

Akira gives a shrug that he hopes comes off as nonchalant and tells him, “I’ll try.

Sojiro’s hands falter for a second.

“Akira-”

The sharpness of his tone is startling; he sounds almost _angry_ but logically, Akira knows that it’s worry that dominates his caretaker’s demeanor. Glasses or not, he can see fine, and the sight of rapidly rising liquid threatening to breach the rim of the pot tells him everything.

"Boss, the coffee," Akira says, the words heavy on his tongue. He can see the older man hurry to set down the kettle out of the corner of his eye as he heads towards the staircase.

"Don't try me. "

The words are still somewhat clipped, but there’s an edge of tiredness in it that halts his advance. His movements are suddenly none as he stands in the uncertain atmosphere of the room, slowly watching Sojiro finish the brew without so much as a suggestion that his grace had slipped.

The older man lets out a heavy sigh as he pours the liquid gold into Akira's ceramic cup, nudging it towards his ward. "You should take a break."

Resolutely, Akira unfreezes himself from his position at the foot of the stairs and slowly settled down into a chair. He eyes the coffee for a beat, or two, just letting himself feel the wisps of heat dance around his nose, before he finally gives in and takes a sip.

Blue Mountain.

"I can't," he mumbles into his drink. The bubbles tickle the tip of his nose but he pays them no mind.

Boss purses his lips, "You can't keep this up. You'll collapse."

"I don't have a choice."

"Then find a compromise.

Akira looks up from his cup. Absentmindedly, he reaches up to adjust his fogged-up glasses from where they had slid down and meets Boss’s eyes.

He hated to fight with Sojiro; he really did. The man was more like a father to him than his real, blood father was.

"The deadline is drawing closer. We can’t afford to do so," Akira replies, but even to his ears, his words sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Sojiro. Hollow.

Empty.

Something passes fleetingly across Sojiro’s eyes, something so fast he almost misses it. The man asks him gently, "Where's the cat?"

Akira lifts up the cover of his bag. Morgana’s nestled inside, the gentle rise and fall of his friend's chest indicating his peaceful sleep.

Sojiro nods, "Look, even Morgana's asleep." The agitation that had seemed to present in his voice a moment before had faded into a gentle fondness as he carefully lifts Morgana into his arms. Or perhaps the man had never been as angry as he’d perceived him to be.

Akira didn't respond.

Boss closes his eyes, "Alright, just promise me that you won't go out tonight. Do whatever you need to here."

Akira opens his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. There was a tightness around Sojiro’s eyes that he somehow missed on the way in. Boss has always rarely shown his fatigue, but in that moment he could see the toll of taking care of two kids with clarity.

"... Okay," Akira relents, "I won't.”

And with that, he places his cup gently onto the counter as he rose out of chair. Sojiro carefully places Morgana into his arms, and his feet take him up the wooden stairs to the attic that was his room.

The uncomfortable feel of wading through humanity's innermost thoughts cling to his skin even now, but something else settles into his skin and soothes his worries.

Bone-deep exhaustion settling into his body and soul, Akira finally relaxes and slips into a dreamless sleep.

 

- _ζ_ -

 

"I saw something before. Right when we entered,” Akira says out of the blue some days after the event. The sky’s a bright azure blue, and the sun shines brightly ahead. He thinks that it would be a mildly warm day, if not for the wind stealing the heat away.

His friends are a little startled at the abrupt start of conversation, but realize quickly what this was about.

“Remember when we first entered and it took me a little while to catch up?" Despite the time that had passed, the conversation itself still isn’t an easy one. Though he knows his friends are there to support him, the feeling of their eyes on him is uncannily similar to the same way he’d been looked at with disgust not even a year ago.

His friends nod as they collectively recall the memory of Akira lagging behind and staring wistfully at the sky.

Somehow the notion that they hadn’t forgotten gave him much reassurance.

He spoke cautiously, taking his time to choose his words, "I think I saw something — someone — falling from the sky.”

No, that wouldn’t be accurate.

A person falling from the sky.

What a strange concept.

Looking back on it, that kind of scene seems more and impossible. Rolling the concept over and over in his mind, the impossibility of such of a thing really just led him to the conclusion that that cannot simply be described as “a person falling from the sky.”

Such would be an understatement.

No, it was an angel. Wingless, falling, and lost, but still with beauty and not a single hint of disgrace.

An angel without wings.

He told them as such.

"Then… were they a shadow?" Makoto asked him.

Akira ponders that for a beat or two, considering the possibility. But the flashbulb memory of the glinting silver flashes through his mind with vivid clarity, and Akira understands that that is not the case.

"No, his eyes- they weren’t gold. They were a bluish-grey," he told them.

He?

Yes, he.

"A wingless angel plummeting from the heavens; it must have been a sight to see. It is unfortunate that I did not witness such a spectacle," Yusuke mused in interest, a thoughtful look crossing his face as his curious eyes searched his friend.

“This is a point of concern, but that’s not the issue, is it?”

“No. It’s not.”

"I can't get the image of him falling out of my head," he says, "It's as if the image was burned into my eyes."

No one knew how exactly to respond to that statement.

"It's strange, and I don't quite understand, but in a way it also makes so much sense." He attempts to clarify, "That image stuck in my head; it just gives me a really strange feeling.

"A strange... feeling?" Makoto asks slowly. In the peripheral of his vision, he notices Makoto shifting in her seat, but he doesn’t need to look to know he’ll find her searching eyes boring into him.

Closing his eyes briefly, Akira turns to look out the fence and grips the metal.

"It's a feeling most similar to deja vu," he explains.

Akira paused, taking the time to further consider his words, "It's a little different. It’s like I’m seeing myself in the mirror, but even after I’ve left my reflection behind that sense of _familiarity_ , for lack of better word, still lingers."

Morgana furrowed his brow, and murmurs "That's..."

Concerning.

Yes.

“That’s- _yes_ . Why would you be able to… _empathize_ with such an event?” Makoto takes an audible step forward.

“Empathy is a strange way to put it,” he says. She leans forward, posture imposing, and he leans back, just a little. He’s saved any further discomfort by

“But the fact remains that you are relating to a person that’s falling from the sky,”

Look, it’s nothing bad, I can promise you. There isn’t a bit of maliciousness in the feeling.

It’s just.

Terribly nostalgic.

"What interests me, however, is the usage of a mirror as a metaphor," Yusuke.

Eh?

Usually a mirror implies that left and right reversed, but that isn’t the case here, if I am understanding correctly.

It’s being flipped.

Akira blinked, "...I'm not sure what you mean."

This may be far-fetched, but a mirror doesn’t just reverse does it? It flips as well.

I don’t understand. Is there a difference?

A mirror has always been a tool for reflecting reality.

‘Regarding the scenery, that might very well be the case, but not with personalities,’ I believe is the direct quote.

When you looked at that man, I believe that feeling is because what you saw wasn’t who the man was externally, but who he was internally. And what you saw there was a reflection of yourself, at least in the most fundamental aspects.

That’s the difference.

We’ve always been wondering about this, but it there was always the possibility that there was another like Akira out there.

After all, we can’t possibly be the only persona users  in the world.

"Alright" Ryuji interjects, "Maybe that's part of it — maybe it's not — but let’s put that aside for now. How did he look like?"

Akira: The man had dark blue hair. Kind of like Yusuke's, but a little lighter.

Haru: Blue hair? That kind of hair color is uncommon.

Futaba: Blue hair... hmmmm...... Maybe he's related to the Detective Prince? I'll have to look into it. uwu

Ryuji: Akechi?

Ann: No, Shirogane Naoto, the original Detective Prince.

Makoto: Shirogane... That's a name I haven't heard in a while.

Akira: Did something happen?

Makoto: No, I think she transferred to a less public precinct some years back. It's a little strange though, I would have expected her to stay with her team given her success with the Inaba murder case. Information about her has been pretty limited, actually.

Akira frowned, this was a little concerning. He decided that it was worth looking into and quickly typed out a note for himself.

Akira: Interesting. Futaba, do you mind looking into that as well?

Futaba: Already on it.

Makoto: I’ll try to ask my sister and see if she knows anything.

Akechi: Would you like me to help?

Akira took a moment to think. Having Akechi search as well was certainly helpful, but he couldn't trust him. As much as he wanted to place his faith in Akechi, he knew that despite everything, they were still enemies.

He couldn't let his personal feelings get in the way. He couldn't.

Akira: No, we still need to focus on Okumura’s Palace. Haru, Makoto, are you guys sure you are okay with searching despite your home situation right now?

Makoto: ... Yes. I can handle it. I think it'll be fine if I bring it up as friendly discussion on the Inaba case.

Haru: Yes, don’t worry about me.

Ann: Back to Blue— did he wear anything that might give away who he is? Like a suit, a school uniform, or something?

Akira: Yeah um, about that.

Ryuji: yeah? what about his clothes.

Akira: He wasn't wearing anything.

Haru: This makes things a bit harder. What would you guess his age to be?

Akira: I'm not sure, actually. Physically, he's shorter than me, so I would say that he's not an adult. But his aura was very mature, and it felt less like seeing an equal and more like—

Akechi: Like?

Akira: It was like being around a teacher. Not just an adult— someone who knows a lot more than I do. It was a little imposing, really.

Ryuji: ok ive been thinking about this for a bit. he fell from the sky in the metaverse right? Then it shouldnt really be surprising if he feels different from what we see. i mean, if hes in the metaverse, how do we know hes not another persona user?

Ann: I was wondering why you were so quiet. You've been thinking hard about this.

Akira turned Ryuji's words over and over in his head. It made sense. If he'd appeared in the Metaverse, what he saw may not necessarily be the truth. It was at times like these that he truly appreciated Ryuji's silent but keen perception.

Akira: That could be true.

Haru: If that's the case, then we really haven't gotten anywhere.

Akechi: I suppose we can only place our faith in Sakura-san. Shall we retire for today? It's quite late now, and I have work tomorrow. I'm sure you all have school tomorrow as well.

Makoto: Then let us meet at the cafe tomorrow after school. When will we be going into Mementos again?

Akira: The day after tomorrow. Good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta, [fineinthemorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning), who helped me fix this up.  
> Thank you to my old beta, [Arowen12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12), as well for helping me back when I was writing this.  
> Special thanks to [TwilightKnight17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightKnight17), [Musical_life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musical_life), [Sakurabomb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurabomb), who all read over the original drafts of this.


	2. II - Initiation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins.

The second time they met him was... strange to say the least. They had seen him in Mementos once more, but the circumstances was much, much more different than their previous encounter.  
  
Akira cartwheeled around the Dakini that was Oda Hanae's shadow, his gun flashing brightly in his hand as an One-Shot Kill bullet narrowly missed blowing his ear off. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he swung his arm forward and returned fire. The shadow flinched backwards from Akira's shots but it quickly recovered and started charging up.  
  
"Everyone! It's weak to fire!" Oracle shouted over the intercom as she cast a Matarukaja spell.  
  
Joker made eye contact with Ann and called out, "Panther!" She nodded in understanding as they ran towards the shadow together. Akira jumped ahead, feet planting into its face as he stunned it with a ziodyne.  
  
He backflipped off the shadow, spine arching to avoid the agidyne spell he had bought time for Ann to charge up.  
  
The Dakini screeched in pain as its defenses were useless against Panther's white flames, arms clawing at its face in a desperate attempt to quell them.  
  
The Phantom Thieves shared quick glances before taking the opening and tearing into their opponent. The shadow reverted back into Oda and she collapsed to her knees, head hanging low in shame and defeat.  
  
Akira bent down and spoke softly into her ear, "Take care of Shinya for me." Oda nodded mutedly before dissipating, a single soma dropping into his palm.  
  
Joker stood up and turned towards the team. He spoke, "That's the last of the requests."  
  
"Hmmm, are we going back now?" Morgana asked as he jumped into the air and poofed into the Bus.  
  
"No, we're a little short on money and items so we'll look around for a bit," Joker decided as he climbed into the Bus with the rest of the Phantom Thieves.  
  
"We've been here for a while, so let's stick near the escalator in case of anything," Akira paused, "Oracle, how much time do we have left?"  
  
"3 minutes? Give or take," she shrugged. Joker hummed in reply before pulling up onto the platform. The Thieves climbed out and waited for his orders.  
  
Joker set one foot on the platform and slung his arm over the top of the car door, his eyes sweeping over his friends as he thought carefully.  
  
"Mona, Oracle, stay behind here. We'll need updates and a quick exit," he turned to the others, and continued, "Everyone else, split up and search the area. Avoid enemies as much as possible. Don't wander too far and always makes sure you can escape if you get into trouble. Move out."  
  
The Phantom Thieves dashed out, quietly weaving through the tunnels and around enemies. Their fading footsteps were light and practiced from the many times they snuck around Palaces, and they moved through the winding labyrinth of Mementos unnoticed.  
  
Akira leapt past an unsuspecting shadow and grasped a corner of the turning wall, using it to propel himself around and down another path. He rebounded off the walls, above the black goo of mess that were ordinary shadows.  
  
As he swung from the cables hanging off the walls, a sliver of bright gold broke through the dull monotone color that his Third Eye gave his world. He stopped in his tracks, cautiously grasping the wires as his eyes searched the area for the telltale shine of treasure.  
  
There! The royal gold indication shone through his muted world like a beacon and he carefully swung his way over. He came to a stop near it, the shadow patrolling around it preventing him from quickly snatching it up.  
  
Upon deactivating Third Eye, Akira could see that it was a silver briefcase he had found. The Phantom Thief slowly shifted along the top of the wall, eyes carefully following the shadow's movements.  
  
The shadow wandered a bit around the corner, its gloop crawling over the veiny red of Mementos' floor. Joker took the opportunity and slung his legs around the wire, spine bending backwards to reach for the handle of the briefcase.  
  
The rattling of chains broke his concentration and his hand missed, knocking over the briefcase. The patrol turned its head and growled, spindly arms grabbing for him.  
  
Akira dropped to the floor and grabbed the entire case, jumping out of the way of its arms' reach. He dashed down the tunnel he'd come from and reached up to his ear.  
  
"Everyone retreat! The Reaper's coming!" He shouted into his earpiece.  
  
"Akira! He's already here!" Futaba said, her words shaky and confused.  
  
Akira skidded around another corner, "What!? We should have some time to escape!"  
  
Something was wrong. An uneasy feeling had settled restlessly into his bones and his instincts were screaming at him. Something was different this time and Akira was afraid that his poor judgement could have seriously hurt a friend or...  
  
He didn't want to think about the alternative.

"Ryuji's in trouble! He's been caught!"  
  
Akira's breath hitched at Oracle’s words, and a bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. He asked, "Where is he?"

"Take a right and at the end of that hall take a left," Futaba's words were panicked and afraid. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Akira reached up for the wires and flipped his way through the air in a desperate attempt to reach Ryuji faster.  
  
"Sakamoto! I'm coming for you!" Akechi's voice pierced Akira's ear.  
  
"Ryuji-san, hang in there. I'm coming too!" Haru called.  
  
From Ryuji's end, Ryuji's voice broke through the static. His words were breathy and his breathing was heavy, "No! I'll hold him off until you guys can escape. Besides, I can run fast enough to get away."  
  
Yusuke, who had been quiet until now, spoke solemnly, "Ryuji-kun, your breath has left you. It is straining you to even speak. How can you run away?"  
                                           
Ryuji didn't reply to that and opted to instead summon Seiten Taisei to block a blow, the clang of a bullet hitting metal ringing clear. Ryuji could be heard casting a ziodyne spell.  
  
Akira swung himself around the last corner and crashed into Ryuji, throwing them both out of the way of the garudyne the Reaper had sent spiraling towards his friend.  
  
He raised his gun and shot at the Reaper's eyes as best as he could considering that it had a bloody sack over its head and pulled an aerial over a freidyne.  
  
Activating High Counter, Joker roundhouse kicked one of the Reaper's bullets back at it and grabbed onto Ryuji's arm. He summoned Arsène and attempted to run away, but a bufudyne stopped them in their tracks, spikes made of pure ice closing off their escape. He turned his head to see the Reaper tearing through his Persona.  
  
Hand still grasping Ryuji's arm, he leapt backwards to avoid another of the Reaper's attacks. However, he failed to see the gun flying at him and it knocked his head up, blood spurting out of his mouth. Akira fell backwards as the Reaper pulled the chain and swung it downwards, the gun following it.  
  
Ryuji jumped and grabbed the chain connecting it to the gun and jerked it sideways in an attempt to redirect it and the gun narrowly missed Akira. Their opponent let loose the other one, which crashed into the adjacent wall. The Reaper dragged the chain into it, building up potential energy.  
  
Ryuji, running to check on his downed friend, was caught off guard by the whistling of the second gun detaching from the wall and whizzing through the air. He stood there frozen as he awaited the impact..  
  
The clang of metal against metal rang clearly through the air as Yusuke's blade stopped the gun in its tracks with a downward slice. At their right, Haru shot a grenade from her launcher and did a Grand Jete over the spikes.  
  
With a pirouette, she switched out the ranged weapon for her axe, which she threw with frightening strength at the Reaper's torso.  
  
The weapon sliced upwards in a diagonal, the Shadow's blood staining its blade, before it returned into Haru's outstretched hand.  
  
As Yusuke and Haru fended off the Reaper's attacks, Akechi helped Akira and Ryuji to their feet. Futaba and Morgana rounded the corner and advanced towards him.  
  
"Oracle, Mona, why are you here?" He asked, his voice unstable as he attempted to channel Joker into his words. He could feel Arsène stirring in the back of his mind, a sense of worry emitting from his Persona.  
  
"I couldn't leave you behind," Futaba said, her voice small as she curled up in her seat inside Prometheus. Morgana nodded in agreement.  
  
Ryuji asked rapidly, "Do you have a Traesto? We gotta get out of here now."  
  
Akira shook his head. The reason he was so pressed for money was because he had run out of Traesto Gems and Tae's prices weren't cheap, with or without the discount.  
  
In the background, the sounds of battle faded as the Reaper ended its assault. Yusuke and Haru warily stood a ways from it, cautiously observing its motions in case it intended to resume attacking.  
  
The Reaper straightened up and spoke gruffly, "...rest..."  
  
Akechi cocked his head in confusion, "Rest?"  
  
The Reaper forced out with difficulty, "Where... are... rest?"  
  
Akira's eyes widened in realization before they narrowed. Joker spoke, "Why should I tell you?" He rested his hand on his knife, feet shifting into a familiar stance.  
  
The Shadow didn't pay him any heed and asked again, more forcefully this time, "...Where?" It gripped its guns tightly and swung its arm, chains rattling.  
  
Joker's intercom hummed as Futaba's voice filtered through, "Akira, I've mapped out the way back. We should run for it if we see the chance."  
  
As if on cue, the Reaper roared in impatience.  
  
"Not here," Joker replied, his voice steely. He swiftly turned around and dashed down the hall with his friends, following Futaba as she directed them down the tunnels.

Akira picked up Morgana and tossed him into the air ahead of them, allowing the latter space to turn into the Bus. The Phantom Thieves, minus Futaba, scrambled inside. Heart pounding a thousand miles an hour, Akira gripped the steering wheel and braced himself as he slammed on the pedal  
  
"Everyone, there's an intersection up ahead and the Reaper is looping around. We'll get caught! Let's backtrack and go another way."  
  
Joker gripped the wheel harder, focus peaking. He replied determinedly, "Not if we get there first." With that, he pressed harder on the accelerator and decided to forgo evading shadows, choosing to instead plow through them with reckless abandon.  
  
The Phantom Thieves held onto the inside of the Bus with white-knuckled fists as the Bus sped through the paths at dangerous speeds, twisting and turning around corners.  
  
Upon reaching the intersection, Futaba shouted, "Far left!"  
  
Akira abruptly turned the wheel left, utilizing inertia to successfully turn without wasting time. He furrowed his brow in concentration.  
  
Three meters... two meters....  
  
A dark shadow passed in front of the Bus and in his panic, Akira slammed on the breaks and swerved sideways. The Bus lost its holding on the ground and started to tumble through the air. Morgana responded by reverting into his humanoid form to try and avoid having the Bus crush his friends while they were inside.  
  
The Thieves flew in different directions and were thrown either into a wall or onto the pulsing red floor. Akira gasped for air and struggled to his feet. He reached into his pocket and tossed the soma he had received earlier into the air, activating it. Instantly, his friends' wounds healed and their energy replenished.  
  
Joker stared down the Reaper, which had once again stood unmoving. He hissed out, "What. Do. You. Want?"  
  
Almost in a mockingly innocent voice, the Reaper asked dejectedly, "... Not here?"  
  
Akira blinked in confusion before he slowly shook his head no. As if in acceptance, the Reaper nodded his bloody sack covered head and reached into his flayed waistcoat  
  
From somewhere behind the flaps, he drew out the pale form of a man. Akira strained to see who it was that emerged from inside the Reaper's clothes.  
  
The Reaper tossed the man at him and Akira was nearly knocked off his feet from the impact. Looking down into his arms, he saw the baked form of who could be no other than the falling man he saw some days prior.  
  
Everyone gawked at the blue-haired man laying in Akira's arms. He stuttered out, "W- Why?"  
  
The Reaper slurred, "Butterfly man... ask my friend."  
  
With that, it dissolved into thin air.  
  
Akira swallowed the lump in his throat, "We should take him back."

 

-

 

Sojiro crossed his arms across his chest as his eyes flicked from the covered form of the sleeping man on his couch to the Phantom Thieves. Without words, his aura commanded them to _explain_ .  
  
"A few days ago, Akira saw this man falling from the sky in Mementos," Ryuji began. After they had hauled the man to Leblanc, Boss had decided that it was better to move him to his house, and then proceeded to send his daughter to bed.  
  
"The collective unconsciousness," Sojiro said, recalling what he was told about Mementos.  
  
Haru nodded, "Today, we..."  
  
She hesitated, mind racing to find a suitable description that would not alarm the coffee shop owner.  
  
"While we were exploring, we found him there," Akira covered.  
  
Sojiro raised an eyebrow, "He was just laying there. Naked."  
  
"Yes," Akira replied without missing a beat, voice firm. Sojiro held his gaze for a second before dropping it and motioning for them to continue.  
  
"We don't know who he is, but considering where we found him, we decided that the best course of action not to leave him in the hands of the police," Akechi said calmly, his voice almost placating.  
  
Sojiro sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "You kids..."  
  
He left the room for a split second before returning with a blanket thicker than the one the Thieves had hastily thrown over the man and a set of clothes. Sojiro threw the blanket over the man and set the clothes on a nearby stool.  
  
Boss turned back towards the Thieves, who had silently watched him putter about.  
  
"Go home now, or you'll miss the last train. I'll take care of this," he placed his hands on his hips.  
  
One by one, Akira's friends filed out of the home. Akira, however, lingered near the doorway and looked back.  
  
Sojiro asked, "Well?"  
  
"I'm sorry, Boss. For being such a bother," Akira said, guilt lacing his words. He avoided eye contact and shifted his feet.  
  
Sojiro scoffed fondly, "If that bothered me, I would have kicked you out long ago." The two traded smiles before Akira stepped out the doorway into the humid night.  
  
"Close up shop for me, kid! My age has been catching up to me; I forgot about it."  
  
Akira responded with a nonchalant wave.

 

-

 

For all everyone seemed to make Akira out to be, he's unfortunately not the perfect leader they see him as.. He'd like to say that he held up a pretty strong face earlier- but he could only hope that the cracks in his mask weren't as apparent as he thinks they are.  
  
It's late, and Akira wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and forget about what happened. This wasn't the first time the Phantom Thieves had been dangerously close to death, but the aftershock was as raw and piercing as ever.  
  
"Do you need a hand?"  
  
Akira jumped a little from his position at the sink, gloved hands still submerged in soapy water. He'd forgotten that Akechi had followed him back to the cafe to pick up some things he had left in the attic earlier that day. He sighed and relented without a word. Whether Akira wanted help or not, Akechi would probably do so anyways.  
  
Akechi squeezed in to his right, slipping on another pair of gloves and dipping them in alongside him. An uncomfortable silence filled with only the slosh of soapy water and dishes clinking stretched for a tense couple of minutes, and neither of the two spoke until the last plate was placed on the drying rack.  
  
"Shouldn't you be leaving now? At this rate, you're going to miss the last train," Akira mumbled. In his sorry state, he's certainly appreciating the lost solitude of before, and he's certain he will be even less likely to finish sorting out his thoughts with Akechi watching his every move.  
  
Akechi's eyes didn't move from him, and an unreadable expression settled onto his face. Akira turned to face him as well, and thinks yet again that he's never sure what Akechi is thinking.  
  
"It's fine. I don't have much work tomorrow." He added, "I wanted to talk."  
  
Unfortunately for Akechi, Akira did not want to talk, and the moment he's finished closing up shop Akira resolved to high-tail it to the bath house and wash away his worries.  
  
"About what?" Akira feigned ignorance. He knew that Akechi was referring to their near-death encounter, but he was incredibly shaken and opening up to Akechi of all people wouldn't help his case at all.  
  
"You know what. The Reaper," Akechi looked at him knowingly. His eyes were calculating, and his lips drawn tight. It seems even Akechi's patience could not fare against the shock of narrowly avoiding death.  
  
Akira countered with a gaze just as solid, a feeling of triumph simmering in his gut when he saw Akechi's features soften. Akechi let out a soft sigh before removing his apron and handing it to Akira.  
  
"Ah, I missed the last train," Akechi commented with a remorseful sigh that Akira knew was fake as he absentmindedly checked the time on his phone.  
  
Akira frowned, "It's not even 15 minutes past 12 yet."  
  
With a blank face, Akechi replied, "The Ginza Line stops at 12.”  
  
"Ginza? Where do you live?" Akira couldn't help asking despite wanting to avoid conversation. He pulled off his own apron and hung both on a hook before leaning back on the counter.  
  
Akechi seemed to hesitate for a second, taken aback by Akira's forwardness, before replying, "Asakusa."  
  
" _Asakusa?!_ " Akira asked incredulously. "That's an hour away by train!"  
  
Akechi grimaced before recomposing himself, casting a pointed look at Akira. In hindsight, Akira has a passing thought that asking about where Akechi lived was a mistake.  
  
"I'm not lending you my bed. Or my couch," he evaded.  
  
"I'm not interested in taking your sleeping quarters. I'm interested in talking," Akechi pushed again, his attempt to convince Akira to open up softer this time around.  
  
Akira wasn't interested.  
  
"I'm not interested," he informs.  
  
"Keeping it to yourself isn't going to do much good," the elder of the two points out sagely.  
  
And Akira knows this, but he can't say a word to Akechi, because Akechi can see through him like glass, and Akira can't trust himself to hide anything if he speaks.  
  
"Maybe I just don't want to talk about it right now," Akira bites his lip. It's not necessarily untrue, but how Akira wished he could actually speak his mind without worrying about the consequences. How easy it would be if he didn't have to hide anything.  
  
"I can wait."  
  
That unreadable expression is on his face once again, but Akira can't help but feel that it had a vulnerable quality to it that was far from the plastic masks he'd seen Akechi wear time and time again.  
  
He'd finally gotten Akechi to trust him enough to wait for an answer that Akira thinks he'll never give- so why did Akira feel so terrible?  
  
...  
  
Akechi has no way to return home so Akira gave him the couch anyways.  
  
The next morning Akira, with a sinking pit of disappointment, is not surprised to see the couch empty save for the blanket neatly folded on top.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am of the belief that Akira definitely has had formal contemporary dance training  
>  ~~and totally not because I want an excuse for him to do fancy tumbles~~
> 
> Akira realizes way later that he dropped the briefcase while running.
> 
> Beta: [Arowen12](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12); [fineinthemorning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fineinthemorning)  
> Special Thanks: [Musical_life](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musical_life)


End file.
